Old soldiers never die
by Captain Kobold
Summary: A team of WWI-era mystery men are brought through time to modern Paragon City, where they prove that you can teach an old dog new tricks.
1. Default Chapter

Despite the summer sunset, the wind was cold as Iron Eagle readied his armour for take-off: start up the engines, and then jump up in the air. The flying had frightened him the first few times he'd done it, but the years had brought confidence. Now he soared above the city, his eyes scanning the ground for Busiek Square. There. He began circling, in preparation for landing.

"He's not comin'."

"He'll be here."

"He's at home, watchin' the tube, grinnin' at us, standing around in the cold."

"He'll be here, Mel. Cool it."

Mel grumbled a bit, but Beth was the leader of the gang, so he shut up. Across the square, Joe and Rodge were telling each other jokes.

Privately, Beth was worried. No underage hero was legally allowed operate in the city. No underage superhero groups were allowed, either. After the Sidekick Act of 1977, the only way they were allowed was under the supervision of a registered adult hero from a known hero team. Because of this, they were waiting for the Iron Eagle, a fixture of the Freedom Phalanx. The she heard the sound of a VTOL engine: Iron Eagle was landing.

"Well, well. You're Red Heart's daughter, aren't you? Little Eliza Hart."

"I call myself Red Beth now," she replied, aware of the grin on Mel's face. She pointed at him. "This is Fridge."

Iron Eagle looked up at the face before him. Fridge looked like a yeti.

"This is Solenoid," she said, indicating a kid with glasses and a set of metal gloves, connected to wires going up his sleeves, "and this is Caliburn." Caliburn was the same age as the other two, with a glowing, ornamented scabbard on his belt.

Iron Eagle took a clipboard out of a compartment in his armour, and began writing." Now, what d'you call yourselves?"

"The Special Remedial Class," said Solenoid. They all went to the same school, and it had seemed right.

Iron Eagle gave him a disbelieving look, and then shrugged. At least they were being realistic. At least they wouldn't be like that bunch of kids that Dawnstar had had last year, the bunch that had called itself "The World-Changers."

Names and addresses taken, Iron Eagle put away the clipboard, and got down to business. "Now, you're a team, but you're rookies. So, we're going to team zone, but an easy one. The Circle of Thorns' holy grove. We go in, we beat up some mystics, we save anyone they've kidnapped, we all go home. Now, let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

As Iron Eagle flew over Paragon City with four people hanging onto him, he was painfully aware that they were all staring at him. He shrugged. It couldn't be easy, he thought, to begin in a high-mortality field like this, and then

be teamed up with a third-generation hero.

He'd been doing this since he was as old as these kids, first as a sidekick, and then, after his father died during the Rikti War, as Iron Eagle. His father, the second Iron Eagle, had been a hero since he took over _his_ father's role after he'd forced the old man to retire after he lost his leg, fighting Earthquake, in 1965.

His grandfather, the first Iron Eagle, had actually started his career as a member of the Storm Korps. But, in the final year of the war, he had been placed in command of a group of ordinary soldiers, and an American squad had forced them to retreat towards Bergen-Belsen. When he saw the inside of the place, he surrendered immediately.

While he'd been in prison, the war had ended. He'd stayed in prison for five years after that, but for all that, he still came out of it better than Deutche Blitz and the rest of the Storm Korps who lived to see Nuremburg. Eventually, the Statesman had talked him into serving the rest of his sentence in community service. He had saved both Paragon City and Europe many times after that. By the time he lost his leg, fighting Earthquake near Mt. Etna, he'd been long since forgiven.

"We're there," said Beth, shaking him out of his reverie.

The Circle of Thorn's holy grove was only reachable through back-paths in Gaiman Woods. It was immediately obvious to all five of them, when they got there, that they had arrived in the middle of a ritual.

"Hail, Odegra! Dark Queen between worlds, accept this paltry offering of souls, that you may better respond when we free ye!"

Iron Eagle searched his on-board computer for any info, and the results left him cold. Odegra had come to Paragon through a rip in space-time, back in the seventies, and almost destroyed the city. The Freedom Phalanx had finally trapped her between dimensions. If she got loose now…

At this point, the gagged victims began floating towards the glowing vortex on the other side of the grove. Suddenly, all five heroes jumped out from behind the rock, and began fighting through the priests. Solenoid started throwing electricity through the crowd, stunning dozens. Anyone left, would face the fists of Red Beth, or the competent swordsmanship of Caliburn. Fridge, meanwhile, threw up ice-walls to catch the devastating spells of the more experienced mystics, while Iron Eagle fired rockets at the monsters they had summoned, and tried using wave harmonics to close the vortex.

And then, just before the second victim was sucked in, the vortex finally collapsed. Iron Eagle grinned. Now to concentrate on the leader. Solenoid had forced his way threw the crowd, and fired a blast of electricity at the gem on the leader's staff.

"No!" the leader exclaimed, with genuine fear in his voice. "It's too powerful, I won't let you!" He blocked the blast with an energy-wall, and was about to strike back, when Red Beth caught him with a kidney punch. Then she knocked him out.

"Well," said Iron Eagle, when it was over, "that went well. I got the police on my radio; they just need us to hold them for a bit, while they get here.

While they were waiting, Caliburn stooped to pick up the staff the leader had been using. He hefted it, experimentally. "Hmm. Interesting," he said.

"What?" said Iron Eagle.

"With most mystic artefacts, the power is evenly distributed along the whole object," Caliburn replied, thinking. "With some, the power has a focal point, say a design on the front. But this, this gem," he pointed to the gem, "this gem is the only part of the staff that has any power. The rest is just wood." He broke off most of the staff, to prove his point. Nothing happened. "But the power in the gem, that is strong." He looked at Iron Eagle. "You're gonna wanna take a look at this at the lab at Freedom Plaza."


	3. Chapter 3

Freedom Plaza was the general headquarters for of the Freedom Phalanx. It had been since the Fifth Column had destroyed the team's original headquarters, a brownstone on Main. Rebuilding was underway, but most of the team preferred the new building. At any given time, however, most of the team was out, fighting crime or living lives. Only a few of the old-timers lived at Freedom Plaza.

One of them was Dr. Science. Dr Science had been around the Phalanx for a decade, longer than Iron Eagle, but only just. After he had saved the world from the Rikti, and been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honour _and_ the Nobel Peace Prize, he had proved too famous to function as a hero anymore. But he could still plan, and design, better than almost any human alive. He ran the laboratory for the Freedom Phalanx. He was so good, the Dawn Patrol, and even the Midnight Squad, often dropped by to borrow it.

"Hey, Eagle. What's this? Babysitting?" he said, as Iron Eagle and the kids came into the lab. However, he soon stopped joking when he heard about the gem. He whipped out a bunch of scanners, and began going over it.

"This thing is putting out tachyon particles, a lot of them," he said when he was finished. "Near as I can tell, the gem itself is a ruby. It's current colour can only be the result, I assume, of some chemical or physical stress undergone by the gem; this would also explain the chronal radiation. This thing is nothing known to science, gang."

Red Beth was about to give him an earful, but then Dr. Science went to the door, and yelled "Owl-Man! We found something!"

Even Fridge had heard about Owl-Man. He'd turned up at the UN, just a few months ago, while Captain Death had held it hostage. Afterwards, he'd claimed to be the herald of Athena, dedicated to truth and order. They'd signed him on at Freedom Plaza, because he could do magic-based lab work almost as well as Dr. Science did the regular kind.

He came in, nodded to everyone, and picked up the gem. "I sense conflict," he said. "Conflict and anger. And desperation. Why those emotions?"

He held it for a bit longer, keeping absolutely still. The gem began to glow. Suddenly, he yelped, like he'd been hit. He fell over, but the glowing gem stayed where it was. It began slowly moving towards the door, but it began picking up speed. "Follow that!" barked Iron Eagle, and the Remedial Class responded. "Not you," he said to Solenoid, "we may need you here."

As the Remedials followed the gem out of the building, Dr. Science caught up with them. "I've got to take readings!"

Whatever he saw, it wasn't good. "This thing keeps going faster! And the faster it goes, the more tachyons it puts out, and it keeps speeding up!" He did some calculations. "If it keeps going at it's current rate, then it'll reach critical mass somewhere around Western Europe, and take most of Western Europe with it!"

Meanwhile, Iron Eagle had got Solenoid to do CPR on Owl-Man, because he didn't know how. The result was instantaneous – he sat bolt upright, and whispered "I've found them."

Just then, the radio crackled. It was Dr. Science asking Iron Eagle to come out and open fire on the gem. When Owl-Man nodded, Iron Eagle ran out of the room, prepped the engines as he ran, shot a hole in the wall, and jumped out it. He could easily see the gem: it gave off an eerie glow as it went down the road towards the eastern docks, going as fast as a runner. Praying he was doing the right thing, he targeted the gem, and fired a rocket at it.


	4. Chapter 4

Red Beth ran along after the gem. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw that Rodge and Dr. Science were still following it, but Mel had since dropped out. Just as well, his ice walls were no good against this. First it had just gone around them, then, as it had gotten faster, it had smashed through them. Dr. Science was talking to someone on his hip-radio. The he asked them both to stop.

"What was that about? Are you mad?!"

"We'll know in thirty seconds," he told her calmly.

Thirty seconds later, the road exploded in a glow of yellow. They hurried over after it. When they got there, the glow from the explosion had faded, but faint movements in the air were visible. As they watched, the movements reached some sort of climax, and started again, clearer than before. While they watched this, Owl-Man flew in, with Solenoid clinging to his shoulders.

The pictures were becoming recognisable. It was a dance. No, they saw as the movements reached another end, and began again. It was a battle. A group, fighting against a man with a dagger. There was a guy in a suit with a cape, who raised his hands and did something to the man with the dagger. The man with the dagger, in turn, did something to the man in the cape. He fell over, and the burly guy with the shovel ran over to support him. The woman and the old guy ran forward, with the rest of the group behind them…

And then the cycle began anew, this time with faint sound. It was then that Beth noticed that there was a man standing at the edge of the vision. A man in a uniform, obviously a soldier or a former soldier. He was watching the fight, the emotion obvious on his face as the man in the cape fell over.

Now other figures were clearer. A young man, another soldier, throwing balls of light at the man in the dagger. He got kicked in the face, but he continued all the same. There was a man with a glowing spear, and a helmet similar to the one the Statesman wore. The man with the dagger did something to him, and his helmet went flying. There was a man in a suit, with a white mask covering his face. The man with the dagger kept trying to do something to him, but the man in the mask kept dodging.

The sound was recognisable now. The woman screamed when the man in the suit fell over, and the man in the mask was laughing as he dodged the man with the dagger's attacks. The man with the shovel cursed the man with the dagger in a London accent.

It started again, this time with an air of finality. It was more solid than the last few times. The group arrayed around the man with the dagger, who was obviously upset about something. The old man, who was carrying a gun as long as his arm, but thicker, said, "Give up, Zeitgeist! The war is over! Why can't we just live in peace?"

The man with the dagger threw a ball of what looked like heated air at the old man, who fell back. The man with the shovel came about the man with the dagger, and tried to hit him about the head with the shovel. He connected once, but the next blow went _through_ the man's head, with no apparent side effects. The man with the dagger (Zeitgeist?) threw another ball at the other man, who fell back as well. The woman charged forward, and actually hit the fellow across the vision, where he landed against the wall. He threw another ball at her, but she didn't fall back like the other two. Zeitgeist hit her with a continuous blast, and only then she fell back. The man with the glowing spear fired a blast of what looked like sunlight at Zeitgeist, who stopped firing the continuous blast at the woman and swung around on the man with the spear. The man in the suit raised his hands, and snowy wind hit Zeitgeist. The man in the mask yelled what sounded like an insult at Zeitgeist, in French. The young soldier began throwing balls of light at Zeitgeist. The man with the glowing spear caught a ball of stuff off Zeitgeist, and his helmet went flying. The helmet went flying over by the soldier, who caught it and handed it to someone beyond the border of the vision. The young soldier moved close, intent on tackling Zeitgeist, but he got kicked in the face. Zeitgeist started aiming blasts at the man in the mask, who kept dodging. He got tired of this, and aimed a blast at the man in the suit. He fell over, clutching his chest. The woman cried out, "Paul!"

The man with the shovel ran over to Paul, all the while cursing Zeitgeist. The old man and the woman came charging towards him, with the man in the opera suit, the soldier with the broken nose, and the spear-carrier behind them. Zeitgeist began to focus on the gem at the head of the dagger, desperation evident on his face. There was a flash of light, at the exact time the previous cycles had ended –

- and then the old man and the woman cannoned into Zeitgeist. The woman began pounding him, and the old fellow began cursing him, and then he looked up. The three men behind them had stopped, in shock and awe of their surroundings. The old dude shook the woman's shoulder, and she looked at him, and then she, too, lapsed into awe.

The man with the shovel was the first to break the silence. "Well. Don't things change fast nowadays." And then he just fell over. Paul fell over on him. The old man, the soldier, the guy in the mask, the young man with the broken nose and the spear-carrier all fell over. The woman, suddenly aware of the group standing there, struggled to stay conscious. "Que le Diable…?" she said, and then she fell over, just like the others.


	5. Chapter 5

They brought the nine of them to the lab, to perform scans, in case they were ill. Eventually, Dr. Science came out of the infirmary, to where the others were waiting.

"The woman is a mutant. She's tougher and stronger than any human has a reasonable expectation to be," he said. "The young fellow is also a mutant. He can throw explosions from his hands. The big fellow is normal, but from what I saw in the run-up, he can more than take care of himself. The same applies to the man in the mask, but he's built like a gymnast, and he's got a bag of fingerprint powder and a tiny brush, in a pouch on his belt, to go with the rapier, which is honed steel, by the way. The old man, from the papers in his pocket, is Henry Atkins, of His Majesty's Armed Forces. He's a non-commissioned officer, from the stripes on his shoulders, but the others deferred to him. The gun he has is just a modified mortar launcher. The guy in the suit, he's just had a heart attack, and he shows all the signs of suffering from Spanish influenza. Which is impossible," he said, "Spanish influenza was only around near the end of World War I. It's been treated for decades, it's dead, no-one catches Spanish influenza anymore-"

"His gear?" Iron Eagle interrupted.

"Oh. Yeah. The guy in the suit is nothing special, apart from the influenza, but his gloves have sigils embroidered on them. Owl-Man went over the books, he says they're from some Assyrian holy site. He's got enough holy trinkets around his neck to start a small flea market stall. The guy with the spear, he's nothing special, aside from suffering from all the signs of the early stages of cancer, but Owl-Man's going wild over the spear, keeps making phone calls. The guy with the knife, the one they called Zeitgeist, is, I think, composed of energy, focused on the knife. The knife and the man are both saturated with tachyons. The gem on the hilt is identical to the one you found at the Circle of Thorn gig. The others are, best as I can tell, suffering from radiation overdose; that's why they fainted. They should be fine, but we'll have to keep them overnight, just in case."

"And the bystander? The soldier?"

"The soldier? He's basically just some poor sucker in the wrong place in the wrong time. His paperwork shows him to be a Sergeant in the Regular Army of the United States. Date of birth: 8th of May, 1875."

The room went quiet. Everyone look at Dr. Science like he'd grown another head. Everyone went over what he'd just said, and then Iron Eagle spoke, haltingly, disbelievingly.

"I…remember seeing something like that, in a museum in St.-Lo. My grandfather took me there, when I was a kid. A bunch of highly specialist espionage and counterespionage agents, and fair-weather soldiers besides. The British government in 1914 started them, and similar individuals from France and Belgium joined them. Lasted out the war, then died defending the Paris Peace Conference from some nutcase terrorist. They…they…"

"Yes?" Dr. Science said.

"Those people in there… the world, and history, knows them best as a group that called itself Senex Abiecta."

It was a few hours later.

When Dr. Science had heard Iron Eagle's opinion, he had spread the word. The infirmary was hopping. They stayed waiting for the nine to wake for so long, that Iron Eagle insisted that the Remedials go home, and get some rest. They left on sufferance, and only on the promise that they would be called when the patients woke up.

Firewing leaned against the glass. "So how can they be heroes, man?" he said to the Statesman, who was standing next to him. "I mean, the first hero – was you, right?"

Statesman nodded. "That's true, but I wasn't the first fellow to do something like this. Governments and organizations have always employed… individuals with specialized abilities. The English had Sir Francis Drake, during the 1600's. Around the time of these folks, the French government employed an anti-sedition agent with a whip called General Revanche. Besides, this group saved the world when no-one else was around to do so – against mad gods and vampires and that power-mad jerk Doctor Tachyon." Firewing digested this information. Doctor Tachyon was that rarity, a time traveller who could plan ahead. He'd almost taken over the world a few times. patients some breathing room. Most of the crowd had gone off to save the First Paragon Bank from being demolished by the Lost, but what was left was still sizable. And then the patients began waking up. The Statesman was the first to notice it. When the old man's eyes began opening, he ran into the room, stood beside the bed, and said, "Sir? Are you alright? Would you like some breakfast?"

The old man focused, and whispered "Tom? That you? Where am I?"

"You're in Paragon City, sir, in a private hospital. And there's something you should know…"

The old man obviously had trouble processing this. "What? We're in America? But we were in France just a second ago. And I had a strange dream that Paris had changed…"

The man in the next bed stirred. It was the bystander. "What… what happened? Last thing I remember is the fight between those strange men…" His eyes focused on Statesman. "Oh, bully. I've been kidnapped by a circus. This really is the day from – " And then his eyes bulged out of his head. "Mark? Mark, that you in that get-up?"

The Statesman stepped over, shock evident on his face. "Sarge, how are you here? Last anyone heard, you died in an explosion in Paris. Johnny Lamppost said he saw you disappear in a flash of light. There was chunks missing from buildings, dust all over. He said it was a freak accident he survived."

The bystander snorted. "Well obviously he was wrong. And don't go trusting the word of Johnny Lamppost; he's a new fish. I doubt he's even_ seen_ an explosion, besides fireworks. Where am I?"

"You're in Paragon City, Sarge, but – "

Ah, the old hometown. Well, this calls for a celebration. You'n'me, kid, we'll paint the town red. Where are my pants?"

"You're going nowhere, mister. Not till your file arrives," Dr. Science said, storming into the room. "I don't care if you do know Statesman, you are not leaving this building before we've seen your file."

"Who? Only one'a you saps I know is Mark here, and – " He turned around, and saw the other patients, who were just waking up. "Holy nuts, it's those guys who were fightin'! Wait'll my Ma hear about this!"

"Yes." The Statesman was clearly uneasy about something. "And that brings us, rather neatly to an important fact that you should all hear before we let you out."


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Beth heard about the patients waking up, she called the guys. She was all for going over immediately, but they all made her promise to wait. They'd see these people as a team.

When they got there, further surprises lay in wait. "That guy there, he's Captain Castile, from the EU Defenders! And over there, that's First Citizen! What're they both doing with those files?"

"Well, they seem to be going the same place as us, so we'll soon find out."

When they got there, they saw the patients were not only awake, they were angry. "Whadda'ya mean, dishonourable discharge? I was servin' my country when you were wettin' your pants, kid."

"Well, the men from the Army Accounting Board were not new fish, Sarge, and when they heard that you had died in a bomb blast, they checked the site. They said that it wasn't a bombsite, and no unexploded German ordnance had landed in that part of the city. They decided that you'd run away, absent without leave, and they dropped you, there and then."

Across the room, another argument was getting hot. "Now see here, my good man," the man in the suit was saying, "even if I do have Spanish 'Flu, that's still no reason to detain my friends here." His accent was cultured, English, reasonable.

"'Sright," said the man with the shovel. "I know I feel fine, an' I fink I speak for all of us when I say, Leave us go, you li'ul perishers." His accent was pure London East End, and he was obviously spoiling for a fight. He was just as firm, though.

Dr. Science was not having a nice day. "_Because_," he said, "the world's changed too much. Most of you probably wouldn't last a day, even in the cities you grew up in. To say nothing of leaving you go in some foreign city. And, your files haven't –"

"_Buenos dias, senores, senora. Hola, _Fred. I got those British Government files that you were asking for. Will I start handing them out?"

"Paco, you're a lifesaver," said Dr. Science. "If you want to start, go ahead."

Captain Castile picked a file of the top of the pile. "Henry Atkins? Alias the Mortarman?" The old man, who had been watching the argument between his friends and Dr. Science, stepped forward. He took his file from the Spaniard, and began reading. "Lord Paul Winter?" The cultured guy with the influenza raised his hand, and the file was passed back to him. "Nicole Lepennec, alias Olympienne?" The woman, who had been looking out the window, turned and claimed her file. "Saul Horowitz, alias the Gravedigger?" The burly fellow with the shovel came forward. "Thomas Cleneghan, the Huntsman?" The spear-carrier, who had handed Paul his file, now came forward to claim his own. "Jean LePuy, Grenadier?" The young soldier stepped forward, and he thanked Captain Castile for the file as it was handed to him. "Francois Chacon, who is also listed here as 'Le Fantome'?" The gymnast stepped forward, and collected his file. Captain Castile turned to the man that the Statesman had called 'Sarge'. "So that means _you_," he said, hopefully, "are John Matthews, alias Imperial, _si_?"

While Sarge shook his head, befuddled, the patients took on solemn faces, and Jean LePuy said, "_Non, m'sieur_. _Capitaine_ Matthews is no longer with us. He has not been with us since the Marne. I do not know who this gentleman is, but he is not in our files, I know that much."

First Citizen stepped forward. "Well, that seems like my cue," he said, and he handed the file to Sarge. "Sergeant Michael Wade, her is your paperwork. In light of recent… occurrences," he said, eyeing the patients, "I have been told to inform you that a review of your case is underway, and that this is by no means the final word."

Captain Castile had been flipping through the files. "_Here_," he said, picking up a black file, in contrast to the others, that had been blue. "Hans Grillparzer, alias Zeitgeist." He handed the file to the German, who took it, and with that, the patients all began reading. Mortarman finished first. "I've already seen this story, thank you," he said, handing the file to Dr. Science. "Except for the part about me being dead. That sounds very interesting, I must say."

"Bad show, Henry, you've spoiled the ending for the rest of us," said Paul, and this drew a laugh from the group. But that didn't last long – this was serious stuff. It listed surviving relatives, medical histories, former addresses, and hobbies – the files had been added to every so often, to keep pace with trends, but the paper was old, and crackly. That, more than anything, brought home to them just how long they'd been gone. And then Captain Castile produced a set of photographs. They were of the museum in St.-Lo, Iron Eagle saw. The place hadn't changed much in twenty years. The photograph showed a mural, of Senex Abiecta against Nemesis. The next one showed some press clippings. Another one showed drawings of some of the most important menaces they'd faced – Die Kaiserlich Verteidigung, Count Otto Tepes Dracul, Balor of the Evil Eye – so fearsome to his twelve-year-old self, and yet, they seemed dated to the man who regularly fought eight-foot-tall Nazis.

"So?" the Mortarman was saying. "You've got our bloody files. We'll go under guard if we have to. But we refuse to stay cooped up in this hospital for one second longer than we have to be."

"I for one, agree with the sergeant on this," said Zeitgeist. "I refuse to stay anywhere near them, not after what they made me do in Paris."

It could have developed into a fight right there, but then Owl-Man ran in, clutching a piece of paper. "This just came in," he gasped, handing it to Dr. Science. "What does it mean?"

Dr. Science went over the sheet, his lips moving. When he got to the end, his face was deathly pale. "Oh, hell."

Iron Eagle was interested despite himself." What?" he said.

Dr. Science waved the sheet around. "This just came in from PortalCorp," he said. "They're picking up heavy inter-dimensional static. The signature of the starting point matches the Praetorians' home universe. And the end-point, according to this," he paused, as if he couldn't believe it, "the end-point is the plaza".

As soon as this sunk in, every hero in the infirmary ran to the window. Sure enough, there was a stable tear in space-time, right there by the fountain. And coming out of it was a group of Praetorians. Six, seven, eight. The man known as Diocletian led the group, the same group that had tried to kidnap the Pope last year. The group stopped, got their bearings, and moved forward.

And then a second group came out of the hole. Iron Eagle felt his stomach tighten. The second group was the same group that had killed Wailing Wall at Masada, on Yom Kippur. Iron Eagle bunched up his fist in anger. Wailing Wall had been an old-time hero, a veteran against the Storm Korps, a veteran of the Six Days War, and a veteran of the Rikti War. What made it worse was that a man named Caligula led the group. Caligula was a twisted mirror-version of Hero1, who had died saving the world from the Rikti. His funeral had brought a lot of attention.

And then, Iron Eagle's heart sank even further. Coming out of the hole was the last member of the first group: an evil magician to match any this world had produced: the dreaded Asmodeus.

Statesman went to the hole that Iron Eagle had made the night before, and yelled, "Sorry, folks, the tour doesn't start until noon. You'll have to come back then."

Caligula saw him, and yelled back, "Ho, impostor! Your continued existence is a living stain upon the honour of our emperor, the true Romulus. And he has empowered me to rid this world of your corrupting influence! Prepare to die!"

"I've heard that tune before, young fella. Let's see how well you dance it." With that, he jumped out the hole, and flew at the group. They looked set to surround him and beat him to death, as they had to Wailing Wall. But they had reckoned without the Freedom Phalanx. Rockets flew from Iron Eagle, blowing their scrum apart. The group who'd been watching what happened in the infirmary charged out through the hole. As Iron Eagle began targeting people, he looked at his teammates. There were old hands, like himself and Black Death, and rookies like Ascorbic and BPM, and even heroes who'd made it big before coming to the city, like Haida and Cerne Abbas. He was filled with pride that they would do something like this, to save their friend. But he knew they were going to lose.

"We're never going to win with a team like this," he said to Dr. Science over his radio.

"Well, why don't you try fighting harder? You may surprise yourself."

"Fine, and you can start calling up off-duty members."

"Doing my damndest. Over and out."


	7. Chapter 7

In the infirmary, the patients were becoming restless. "Look, we'll stay close by, I swear. But we are going outside."

Red Beth was waiting for Dr. Science to respond, but when she looked around, she saw he was busy with the radio. Oh, well… "You can't go out there," she said. "I know you can all take care of yourselves, but these aren't some adoscolent saboteurs, or some of Nemesis' clockwork goons; these are supervillains. You could be killed!"

The patients looked amused about something. "Missy," said Gravedigger, "'Ave you ever seen friends die, just feet away from you, riddled with bullets?" Waiting for her response, he stood there, while behind him, the patients began picking up clothes and sorting out personal effects. When she said nothing, he continued, "Because we 'ave. _Mostly_," he said, darkly, with a sidelong glance at Zeitgeist. "But all of us are used to risking our lives anyway. I think we can 'andle these thugs. And if we do go, who exactly is going to try and stop us? You?"

"No. Us." Beth looked over her shoulder, and saw Mel standing in the doorway, with his arms folded, and Rodge standing beside him, sword hefted. Mel was an amateur boxer, so his forearms were impressive, especially in his yeti-form. It looked like the patients would back down, when suddenly, Joe yelled, "Incoming!" and ran away from the window. There was a crash, and when the dust settled, they saw that the hole in the wall had become larger. And crawling from the wreckage was the Praetorian known as Hadrian. He picked himself up, and was about to go back to the fight, when the Huntsman said, "Regardless of how you feel, laddie, we are still going. Now step aside." At that, he swung around to face them, and he said, "Why can't they leave?"

"Orders," said Mel, with as stern a face as he could muster when faced with a man who outweighed him by a ton.

"Ahhh," said Hadrian, with an evil little grin. "Well now, ladies and gentlemen, if you cannot leave freely, I can certainly take you away as hostages." As he moved forward, he walked into Mel's arm. "I said, they're going nowhere."

"Stand aside, whelp."

"No dice."

And then the fight began. Mel knew he was the only Remedial who stood a chance against Hadrian: Hadrian was almost as tall as Mel, with skin of rock. Mel knew he was the alternate universe double of a man called 'Stonewall' Jackson, who'd died during the Rikti War, defending Freedom Mansion from being demolished by aliens, and incidentally saving the refugees who'd taken shelter there. But Stonewall had been a boxer, while this guy showed no signs of that.

But Mel was still outclassed. After he'd thrown a couple of punches, he caught a knee to the chest. He went down, and he didn't get up. As he went down he reverted from yeti-form.

"Now," said Hadrian, turning to face the patients, "you will come with me."

Beth, Joe, and Rodge all feared the worst, but then Gravedigger said, "So what? We were gonna beat him anyway. And don't try that staring-contest malarkey on us, mate," he said, as Hadrian glared at him, "You're not facin' uppity kids or jack-dandies here; you're facin' professionals. You're facin' Senex Abiecta."

Hadrian laughed. "Well, you are certainly old," he said, looking at Mortarman, "and you are certainly contemptible. Now, you are coming with me. Or do I have to fight you?"

"Yes."

In his defence, Hadrian was a veteran. But he was a veteran of a specialised kind of war, one that pitted man against man, with fists or miscellaneous abilities, on the ground or in the sky. The patients, on the other hand, had heard nothing of this style of fighting. They had grown up long before it's inception. They were veterans of another kind of war, one that revolved around when it was acceptable to fight fair – that is, in fair circumstances – and when not to. This, to them, was one of those times.

Barraged by fists, explosions, blasts, and shovel-blows, Hadrian stayed off-balance long enough for Sergeant Wade to find his service revolver, and shoot him in the eye. He went down, howling and cupping his face.

Rodge was the first to speak. "That wasn't fair," he said. He knew it was a stupid thing to say, but he said it anyway.

Le Fantome turned to face them. "Fair, as in a circumstance where a group of ordinary people are pitted against a stone giant? Now, _allons_. Before he comes to."

When they got to the hole, Olympienne went first, carrying Lord Winter and Mel. She caught all the people who came out the hole after her. They made it to the edge of the square, mostly because the Praetorians thought they were ordinary citizens, and the Phalanxers were all too busy to notice. But at the edge of the square, the wall of the infirmary exploded, and out ran Hadrian. There was anger in his scream, and pain, and revenge. This drew the attention of most of the square, and Beth gave a little moan, as if she couldn't believe their bad luck. As she pointed at a figure reaching the apex of a flight-path, she said, "That's Roma. I saw her on the news. She's preparing for her finishing move, what she calls the Pax Romana."

This drew chuckles from the patients. "'If you fight, we will destroy you.' I like it, I like it," said Lord Winter. He slipped from Olympienne's grasp, and stood there, flexing his fingers, while looking from Roma to Hadrian, as if he was calculating something.

Mortarman was the first to work it out, whatever it was. "No, Paul," the finality in his voice palpable. "Between the 'flu, and whatever Zeitgeist did to you, you're not strong enough to do it.

But Winter would not be moved. "You've got to let me stand on my own feet, Henry." He gazed back at the two approaching foes. "Get going, all of you; I'll hold them off."

As the group walked off, Winter called on the deep calm he needed. Then he intoned the weather spells he'd learned all those years ago, in the backwaters of the Ottoman Empire. He set up a wind-trap and hoped for the best.

It worked. Half a mile above the ground, travelling at ten metres per second per second, Roma suddenly discovered that she could no longer steer. She was suddenly turned ninety degrees, directly into the path of the oncoming Hadrian. She crashed into him, and they both went flying. Now both of them were caught in the wind-trap, and they were bearing down on Diocletian. The horror on Diocletian's face was evident as he created a wall to catch his two friends. But Winter had seen this trick before: he concentrated on the water vapour and the dust in the air. The water vapour coalesced around the dust, and suddenly hailstones the size of eggs were smashing into Diocletian's wall. The wall took a heavy pounding, and it dissolved when Hadrian and Roma hit it. Now the three of them were caught in the wind-trap, but now the only thing that could break their fall was the statue of Andromedon.

As the three of them cannoned into it, screaming, Winter collapsed. Now he could rest. Now he – and then a man stood over him blocking out the sun. It was the wizard that had so frightened the people in the infirmary.

"I would curse you, Paul Alban Winter, were you not so cursed already. Poxed by the flu. Asked to serve your country, and where your brother went off to war, became a hero, you became a spy, and a –what did your father call you? A warlock? Now look at you. Cut of from your peers, in this dystopia. They wouldn't even let you leave the hospital. I do not hate you, Paul Alban Winter. So I shall not curse you. In fact, I give you my blessing," he said as he raised his hand, and began to intone what Winter recognised as a death spell. Winter fumbled round his neck, looking for a particular chain. This earned him a laugh from Asmodeus. "Your trinkets shall avail you naught, child. I have moved beyond such frippery."

But Winter was not reaching for a trinket. As Asmodeus continued his spell, Winter's fingers closed on the penknife that hung around his neck. He pulled it out, flicked the blade open, and drove it into Asmodeus' ankle. The spell broke off in a scream, as Asmodeus fell over. As further foes came over, Winter closed his eyes, and prepared to meet his maker.

Suddenly, he found himself surrounded by warm light. As he rose through the air, he became aware of winged figure in a robe, flying towards him. He smiled, and raised his arms to greet the angel.

"Now, unholy ones, face the wrath of the living God!" Winter watched, bewildered, as the angel flew past him, and began beating up the thugs. Coming in fast behind him, Winter saw a mechanical giant, two men in outlandish apparel, and a woman in a multicoloured raincoat.

The proximity sensors alerted Iron Eagle. He cheered up, as he saw Abijah flying into the square, followed by Bumblebee, Flare, Badger, and Borealis. Meanwhile, coming from the other side was Firewing, Magenta, Appotomax, Sahel, and Iridium.

Faced with these new foes, and with the loss of their four most powerful members, the Praetorians began falling back. They started to retreat back through the hole, making the Phalanxers pay for the ground. Still, they took injuries, and they couldn't save all their members.


	8. Chapter 8

Magenta stared at Roma. "Good God," she said, "she's the spitting image of Mandy." Mandy had been Magenta's sister, Indigo, who had died during the Rikti War.

She moved down the beds in the infirmary. The man in the next bed, Hadrian, had been a silicate-morph; he could turn to rock. But, while he was tough, he was not indestructible, and when he'd hit the statue, his arms had broken, and his torso had cracked. She turned to Dr. Science. "Will he ever recover?"

Dr. Science was on the other side of the room, giving Black Death a cast for her arm. He talked to Magenta while he worked. "I don't know. We might be able to fix him up if he changed back, but he may very well die if he does. In the meantime, we'll just do the best we can with nanobots and cement."

She came down the aisle, to where Iron Eagle was filling out clipboards. "So, what's the status?" she said.

"Haida will be spending some time in Cygnus," he said. "Ascorbic will be fine, once the spell clears up. His acid-proof skin saved his life. And we managed to pick up a few prisoners, as well." He gestured around the room, taking in Roma, Hadrian, Octavia, Tarquinius, and Jove Maximus. "The last guy, the one they called Petronius, his internal when we got him in. He's in Cygnus Hospital now. He'll be back once he's stabilised. And the third woman, Valerian, I think, she made a run for it. Who knows when she'll turn up again."

Magenta's gaze fell on Jove Maximus. But for the tan, and the clothes, he was the double of Tyr, Norse god of Justice, the protector of the city of Defiville, Michigan. She thought about calling Tyr, getting his opinion on the doubles. Then she went over the list of patients again. "Wait. There was that other dude. Asmodeus. Where's he?"

"Dead," said Iron Eagle, with a look of sadness and embarrassment on his face. "Abijah went a little nuts on him. Owl-Man's going over the body in the other room, to be certain that he didn't have a curse on him, like against the person who killed him, or something like that."

The doors of the infirmary opened, and in came Red Beth, Solenoid, and Caliburn, carrying Winter. Behind them came Appotomax, who was carrying the body of a kid about their age. Iron Eagle feared the worst, until he saw that the kid and Winter were both breathing. They laid the bodies down in a set of beds near the back, and Dr. Science came over to give a diagnosis.

"The boy, as best I can tell, was hit by a car, or a falling girder. How'd you meet him, by the way?"

"He took on Hadrian," said Solenoid, in a small voice.

It took Dr. Science a second to work this out, but then realization dawned. "Ah. So Fridge is a bimorph. Interesting." He made a note, moved on to Winter, and went over him. "He's in bad shape," he said, eventually. "His spell-casting took a toll on his physical self. He's going nowhere, not with this_ and_ Zeitgeist's attack _and_ the Spanish 'flu. And now that he's here, where in creation are the rest of my patients? I'm glad we have the beds now, but we need to find them."

"I don't know where they are," said Winter, "and if I did, I certainly wouldn't tell you."

" But you have to help us find them. Who knows what they'll do, in Paragon City. They could hurt themselves!"

"Give it up Beth," said Mel, from the next bed. "You'll have to find them without him."

Winter laughed, his breath rasping through his mouth. "Find them? Who? You, sir knight," he pointed to Iron Eagle, "with your fantastical electrical fireworks? You, master boffin," he pointed to Dr. Science, "with your test-tubes and your fancy vocabulary? Or perhaps you children," he pointed to the Remedials, "once Timmy the dog here," he pointed at Mel, "has recovered? No. You may have met them, you know what they're called but you don't know who they _are_. You don't know how they _think_."

The five of them went quiet. Iron Eagle looked around the inside of the visor. What Winter had said had really reminded him that he hadn't upgraded his armour since he had first become Iron Eagle. Well, except for the –

- communications suite…

"Yeah, we may not know how they think," he said, as he opened the mobile phone feature, and selected the 'Favourites' list. "But I know some people who might."


	9. Chapter 9

And so, the call went out. Across the city, across the country, across the world, the call went out.

In the neighbourhood of Eastside, Red Heart was engaged in a police operation to catch the main drug-running gang in the neighbourhood. Suddenly, his mobile went off. He heard what his daughter had to say, made his apologies to the police, and immediately began scouring the city.

In the city of Hyderabad, Siddha Narayana was checking water samples from a local Crey Corporation processing plant for mutagens. His phone rang. He answered, made some notes, and was off for Paragon City as soon as possible.

In the suburbs of the city of Shoreton, South Carolina, Peitr Braun came home for his lunch-break, helping out at the shelter, and received a message on his answering machine. When he heard what his grandson had to tell him, he immediately drove down to the bus station, and caught the bus to Paragon City.

At Pearl Harbour, a delegation of Japanese government officials was engaged in a Shinto ceremony, to honour the dead. When it was over, a clerk hurried into the hall, and handed a fax to Samurai Zero, Japan's national super-soldier. When he read it, he showed it to his superior, the Minister for Defence. When he nodded, Samurai Zero flew east.

In the neighbourhood known as Faultline, the detective known as Shrodinger was going over the evidence in a kidnapping case. A sergeant handed her a copy of a dispatch. She read it, and immediately left.

On a government-owned farm near Volgograd, the Heroic Defenders of the Motherland were engaged in a publicity-garnering photo shoot, harvesting wheat. Suddenly, Kukuruznik received a message from Moscow on his suit-radio, which he explained to the leader; with a nod from her, Kukuruznik, and his friend, Alexei, went to the jet, and flew to Paragon City.

In the secret underground kingdom of Saurium, King Firescale received a message from the human embassy. When he read it, he smiled, remembering happier times, and then he began making arrangements to go to the surface world.

Le Fantome ran across the roofs of the strange city, the wind in his face and the world at his feet. He had missed this. From the day his parents had been killed, and he'd been forced to fend for himself, he had come to know Paris better than most any man alive. His time working with others, defending his country from invasion, was over. Now he was free again, free to take from others richer than him, and give to those less powerful. During the shelling of Paris, he had saved people from collapsing buildings. That had been the start of it. From there, he had seen and done more than he would've thought possible, facing mythic giants, the fairies of his Breton mother's ancestors, and mechanical abominations. Through it all, he had longed to return to his sweetheart, Paris. Now he was told that Paris had changed beyond recognition. He would grieve for her, but in the meantime, a new city beckoned, one that had never had to deal with a cat burglar of his skill.

As he raced across the roofs in the sunlight, he was aware of a man chasing him. Doubtless one of those _batards_ from the strange hospital. He proceeded to use every trick he knew to evade capture: doubling back, using flagpoles as trapezes, running through building sites, even jumping onto the roof of a train. It was no use; the strange man knew the city better than he did. Time to see if he fought as well.

He stopped on a rooftop, and faced the man, just a few steps behind him. The man was clearly out of breath, like himself. He was dressed in a red leotard, with a heart in darker red on his left breast.

"I must admit, _m'sieur_, that you dance most prettily," ha told the man, "but leave us see if you dance as well when your life depends upon it." With that, he lunged, with his sword drawn. The man took a pair of batons from his belt, and a fight began. They moved back and forth across the roof. The man didn't have the offensive abilities of Fantome, but he was far better at defending himself. When he caught a cut to the chest, he used the attack to return with a blow to the face, just hard enough to stun him.

When Fantome stumbled back from this, his opponent came after him. He caught the sword in one hand, and sat on his legs. "You know," he said, further out of breath, "I just wanted a word with you."


End file.
